


Night

by castielrisingabove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fluff, Guardian Angel Castiel, Other, Team Free Will, bed time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3403994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielrisingabove/pseuds/castielrisingabove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An example of a night going well in the Bunker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night

Most nights don't go well. To be fair, the job isn't exactly ideal for a good night's rest, what with the bad hours, injuries and years of nightmares built up. Still, even Cas, who hasn't lived at the Bunker long, has seen a few of what he'd call a perfect night. As an angel, he doesn't sleep, which has allowed Castiel to learn all the things that could make a night go poorly. The best nights? They're the quiet ones. And they go a bit like this...

11:00 PM---It's late, but the Winchesters are still wound up, stumbling into the Bunker after tracking down the last remaining vamps from the nest they were exterminating. The solution, as always, is suggested by Dean: cold beers and the latest installment of the Star Wars movie for Cas (They're at The Empire Strikes Back. A classic by any standard). They all squeeze onto the couch together, this time it's Sam in the middle, and reassured by the warmth of each others' bodies, finally start to unwind.

12:30 AM--Sam is sprawled against both Dean and Cas, having fallen asleep before Luke Skywalker even left the planet Hoth. But he was so peaceful (and the movie so important) that neither of them had done anything about it. With the credits rolling, however, came getting the behemoth that was Sam into bed. "Some little brother you are," Dean grumbles as he heaves one of Sam's arms over his shoulder. He always complains about getting Sam to bed, but Cas knows it's only done lovingly. With some effort, the two of them succeed in getting Sam in bed, tucked in and everything. Dean yawns. A good sign, because it means he's actually grown tired. With a soft smile, Cas leads Dean out of Sam's room and into the one next door -- even in a home as big as the Bunker, the brothers couldn't bear to be far apart. Dean enters the room with another yawn and a wave, closing the door behind him.

1:00 AM--By Winchester standards, they're asleep early, leaving the Bunker to Cas. After years of explaining, Castiel had finally learned not to spend the night staring at their slumbering forms. Besides, there was much to be done in the Bunker. First came the kitchen...several days of odd dishes had piled up in the sink. Then, of course, you could always sweep the floors...wipe down the counters...Cas hummed the Star Wars Theme while he worked.

2:00 AM--It's not stealing if it stays in the house, Cas reasoned as he rummaged through a basket of clean laundry in search of clothes more comfortable than his own. The result? His socks and boxers combined with Dean's Led Zepplin T-shirt (so soft it felt like Heaven) and Sam's Stanford hoodie which, though slightly too big, was both warm and comforting. Cas admired his appearance in one of the mirrors in the dimly light house, feeling very proud.

2:30 AM--A discovery is made: Cas's socks combined with the slick wood floor made for a very enjoyable experience if one simply ran...and slid. It started simply and quietly, but soon Cas was dashing from place to place, feet pounding the floorboards as he tried to capture enough momentum to slide down an entire hallway. He grinned as he turned a corner and started to practically fly down the hall--until he noticed his impending doom: an old bust on display atop a pedestal. WHAM. He slammed into it with a groan, sending the object toppling to the ground with a crash. Cas waited a moment, heart beating, but there were no sounds. Breathing a sigh of relief for not waking the Winchesters, Cas pushed back to standing, replacing the bust on the pedestal and vowing never to slide again...at least not down that hallway.

3:00 AM--Though he promised not to be creepy, Cas can't help but check in on the Winchesters. Sam shivers in his bed, despite being cocooned in blankets. Quietly, Cas presses his hand to Sam's forehead, allowing a small amount of grace to enter the hunter's system. Sam relaxes, instinctively curling towards Cas's touch, so Cas stays for a while, brushing the hair out of Sam's face, adjusting the blankets and ensuring Sam will be okay before he leaves. Dean is another story, his blankets all pushed off the bed where he's sprawled across, muttering in his sleep. Dean's face is pinched with worry as he apologizes over and over, sometimes to Cas, mostly to Sam. He thrashes, crying out, as his hand makes contact with Cas'. Almost as if realizing physical contact, Dean slowly begins to calm down. Cas murmurs soothing words, squeezing Dean's hand gently before gravity allowed Dean's hand to slip from his own. Carefully, Castiel replaced the blankets on the bed, continuing to speak softly as he tucked Dean in. When he finally leaves, he can't help but notice the small smile that's crossed Dean's face.

4:00 AM--The night, Cas realizes, is lonely. He doesn't begrudge the Winchesters, quite the opposite, in fact, but still...Cas can't help but miss them. As he combs through the library, re-reading the titles for the fourth time since moving into the Bunker, he notices something new, tucked onto a near empty shelf. It's a small box, an old Nike shoebox to be precise, worn and faded. On the top is written, in bold child-like handwriting: Sam's box. Opening it, Cas discovers several items. Two worn journals, one by a young Sam, another by a young Dean, though the later pages seem to be filled with more recent entries. There are pictures too. Many of the Winchesters, of Bobby, even a few of Cas. There are some others, too. A younger Sam at Stanford. A teenage Dean with the Impala. The boys as children. Even one worn, crumpled photo of the Winchesters with their parents. Cas is usually a fast reader, but he allows himself to be fully immersed with the materials--it made him feel a little less alone.

6:30 AM--Sam will be waking up soon. He's always been an early riser. Cas starts the coffee and begins eggs. Sam, unlike Dean, enjoys healthy breakfasts. Still, in anticipation for Dean, Cas also pulls out a package of bacon and a few frozen toaster waffles. 

7:00 AM--Breakfast is made, both meals set up at the table, where Cas waits eagerly. Sam hasn't gotten up for a run, but then again, he deserves some much needed rest. The glints of sunlight have begun to enter the kitchen when Cas feels a strange sensation, his eyes fluttering open and closed. His head bobs up and down as he waits. Surely, the Winchesters will be here soon...and much as Castiel doesn't want to admit it, he's kind of missed them. Cas catches himself mid-yawn, racking his brain as he tries to figure out how much grace he's got...he could have sworn it was enough to keep him from getting tired...Castiel yawns again, head falling slowly...

8:00 AM--The meals have long since gone cold by the time the Winchesters make their way into the kitchen. Dean smirks at Sam's bedhead, the latter smiling and shaking his head. It's been a while since either of them have slept that much, and much as they wouldn't like to admit it...it felt good. "Something smells good," Sam comments, perking up as they turn into the kitchen, "Cas, did you--" He's cut off by a most peculiar sight. Slumped on the table in between both meals is Castiel, shoulders rising and falling peacefully as he sleeps at last.


End file.
